Behind the Mask
by Angeline-dark
Summary: My name is Severus S. Snape and I want to tell you the true story about the war against Voldemort. Do you want to know what really happend? Then follow me on this journey. Warning:Story will contain Slash (SSHP), Het (RWHG),child abuse and character death
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to J.K.Rowling not me, I just play with them a bit to entertain me and others, no money is made by this and I solemnly swear to put them back after I'm done playing.  
  
Rating: R_

_Pairings: Eventually HP/SS , mentions of RL/SB and RW/HG_

_Feedback: Is highly appreciated, please be so kind to review.  
  
Authors notes: This story is dedicated to my wonderful beta Kuteki. I really wouldn't know what I'd do without her._

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**Behind the Mask**  
  
or

The Truth about a True Hero

by Angeline

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Prologue  
  
My name is Severus S. Snape as you may know when you read this and if you are able to read this, let my assure you that I'm dead by now and nothing will affect me anymore by the time this story is published.  
  
I fought with myself for quite a while if I should share this with anyone, but I have come to the conclusion that others have the right to know the truth. I have decided to wait until my death with it, because I'm quite fond of my calm life, which I spend in solitude now. There was a time when I didn't mind and even enjoyed the company of others, but the older I get the more annoying I find other people.  
  
I know that if this story would become known while I live, I would spend the rest of my life being chased by lunatic reporters, a fate which horrifies me, so you can hopefully see my reasons for waiting so long.  
  
This is a story about a true hero, most of you may have heard of him, maybe his tale may have been told to some of you as a bedtime story, even though in my opinion this is not a fitting story for children.  
  
Some of you may have known him personally, as much of himself as he let others see. There were very few he confided in enough to let them see the real him and as the war went on fewer of them were there anymore. He always had to be the strong one, a beacon to whom people could look up to.  
  
That is the problem with people, they don't want to believe that their heroes are human like them.  
  
I want to tell you something about heroes, some things for which most of you may have never spared a thought. Heroes make mistakes, can be in a bad mood, or sometimes behave childishly, what really makes them different from other humans is that they fight for millions of faceless people who they will never know, they gain nothing from this fight. A hero, even when he is exhausted and lost all hope, he keeps on fighting because the light has to win over the darkness, a hero's only reward is the peace that settles after the dark is defeated once again, and if he dies in the battle, not even that.  
  
So you see, being a hero is nothing one should wish to achieve, even the fame that comes with it is mostly just frustrating, so I have been told. People expect so much of you, sometimes more than you are able, or want to give, if you are not able to live up to their expectations they will judge you harshly and turn their backs on you.  
  
A fact, of which people are mostly ignorant about, is that a hero also needs true friends, a place where he can rest undisturbed and love. No one is able to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders without having a shoulder to lean on, people he can trust to sometimes share his burden with.  
  
Love is another thing this story is about. Not the kind of happily ever after love and also not the kind of boy meets girl, they marry and have children love. No, we are talking here about a different kind of love. The love that happens on the battlefield, between fighters where you are never sure if your mate will come back in the evening, or how much time you have left. So this kind of love is more intense, you could say desperately so. Clinging to each other to be comforted, feel alive again for a few hours, grieving for the ones that are gone and praying the other will be spared, to have the chance of a future together. But life is not a fairytale and prayers often go unheard... 


	2. Confessions

Chapter 1 - Confessions  
  
Let me first confess some things about myself, there was a time in my life when I was on the side of darkness, yes, I have been a Death Eater and did horrible things for my Dark Lord, but I came to my senses early enough, for which I am eternally grateful.  
  
I told Albus Dumbledore, one of the most powerful and best wizards of this century, everything and became a member of his now famous 'Order of the Phoenix'. I also began to teach Potions at Hogwarts school for witchcraft and wizardry, where Albus was headmaster at the time. I sought redemption for the bad deeds I've done by being a spy for the side of light.  
  
The Death Eaters, my former fellows, still trusted me and what was more important I had still the trust of the Dark Lord, he thought I was spying for him and I did everything to encourage that thought further without giving him any informations, that were of real importance.  
  
These years were quite exhausting, between teaching, spying and beguiling the Dark Lord and his followers, my life was very complicated.  
  
It were years of solitude, because anyone near me would find out too much and could be used against me. I didn't allow myself to become too attached to anyone, let my appearance become unkempt and greasy and always hid behind a mask of anger and sarcasm, my trademark scowl, so no one would want to get near me, or would be foolish enough to fall in love with me.  
  
Then the impossible happened, the Dark Lord attacked the Potters, Harry Potter, not much more than an infant, survived the killing curse and Voldemort was defeated by the backslash of it, at that time we thought the Dark Lord was gone for good, but we were to learn better than that too soon.  
  
Lily and James Potter were dead, having given their live to defend their son. When I heard of it, I cried for the first time in many years, only in my private chambers of course, because Severus Snape was supposed to have a heart made of stone and I didn't know then, how I should survive without the mask I wore for the world.  
  
I had worn it for so long, that I didn't know anymore who the person behind it was, if there still were some traces left of the man I had been before. The mask gave me a safety I hadn't had before and I was afraid to let it slip.  
  
You see, between James Potter and me there was never more than a deep hatred and loathing for each other. In school we wanted nothing more as to make each other's life hell, so I was not overly sad about his death, but Lily Potter formerly Evans was something utterly different.  
  
I had been in love with her for most of my school time, even asked her out a few times. She was a muggle born, of course and I was from an old pureblood family, but that didn't matter to me at that time.  
  
I was not a Death Eater yet and my family was nothing I was proud of, they treated me at best with indifference, at worst with beatings. I especially hated my father and cried no tear for him as he died, but that is a different story and does not belong here, maybe I will write about my childhood and the famous Snape Family at someplace else.  
  
Where was I?  
  
Ah, Lily Evans, she was a very beautiful girl with long auburn hair and those eyes, their unusual shade of the purest emerald green was what drew me first to her, but looks, like gender, have never really mattered to me.  
  
She was also kind and caring, she would never call me Snivellus, or make jokes about me like many of my fellow students did, because I'd rather indulge in my schoolwork, than in Quidditch or breaking rules and because I was a Slytherin.  
  
She even defended me against Potter and Black when they had crossed a line with one of their jokes.  
  
I may sound like a lovesick puppy but I think I was one then.  
  
I would lay awake at night and think about her, as I got older and became more aware of my body and everything concerning sex, I started to fantasize about her, about making love to her.  
  
In my fantasies I would undress her and explore every inch of her body with my hands and tongue until she was moaning and arching into my touch, as desperate for more as myself. I wondered how her breasts would feel when they were crushed against my chest. If that auburn hair would feel like silk when it was splayed over my face, if her kiss-swollen lips would be soft and pliant under mine. I imagined how it would feel to be inside her, our bodies moving in a rhythm as old as humanity itself, until we would find release together.  
  
Of course, my fantasies never came true, all we ever shared was one kiss, I still remember it like it was yesterday and not over 50 years ago. We had gone to Hogsmeade together, on our way back we made a halt at the edge of the forbidden forest, we talked, she laughed at a joke I made and suddenly our faces were only separated by mere inches. Then we kissed, tentatively at first, almost chaste just lip on lip, her lips were pink and felt silky against mine. Eventually the kiss deepened, our tongues coming out to find each others, she tasted like the Honeydukes sweets we bought, a taste I will always associate with her.  
  
I was truly happy then, maybe for the first time in my life. It was our only kiss, soon after she began to go out with James Potter, my heart was broken when I found out. I thought I wouldn't survive this pain, seeing her with my worst enemy.  
  
She never told me the reason why she had chosen him over me. I can only assume that she would have been embarrassed if she had to admit to her popular friends that she was not only friends with, but the girlfriend of ugly Snivellus. In comparison being Potter's girlfriend had been something to be proud of and had gotten her admiring and jealous gazes from the other girls.  
  
She still talked to me and wanted us to remain friends but I could not stand to be near her. If I weren't so foolish then, I could have had at least that part of her.  
  
And then she died. I never forgave myself for not warning them sooner, but I had only found out myself shortly before the attack. I swore to make it up to her by protecting her son. I made the vow on her grave, slicing my palm with a ritual dagger and letting my hearts blood drop on the earth she rested in, while I spoke the words of an ancient charm, to seal my oath to her... 


	3. A potion to endure

Chapter 2 – A potion to endure  
  
I lay my quill down, feeling strangely exhausted. Writing about the past had felt like actually reliving it and I just cannot take more of it at the moment. I decide to give myself a little rest and continue later.  
  
It feels like I am slightly getting weaker by day and I am afraid of running out of time and not being able to finish this story. No, I have to be strong, just a little bit longer. I have to finish it, have to do this last thing for Harry, before I am allowed to finally rest.  
  
I decide to brew myself an Endurement potion and go over to my ingredients cupboard. Mrs. Weasley came by yesterday to refill my potions supply with the more rare ingredients, those few I am not able to cultivate or breed on my own.  
  
With her position as deputy headmistress at Hogwarts it is easy for Hermione to get everything I wish for as I now despise being in places like Diagon alley or Hogsmeade, where large numbers of witches and wizards gather.  
  
They all want to speak with 'war hero' Snape, or buy me a drink and speak about old times. If I wanted to speak about the past at all I would surely not do it with them.  
  
All of them annoy me at the best, anger me at worst and I do not want to be tempted to use curses on them which I might just maybe regret later. Some of these curses would be _unforgivable_, if you know what I mean.  
  
I am sneering now, imagining having that stupid Longbottom boy under a nice Imperius, ordering him to stop babbling and be silent for once, as not even age has made up for either his clumsiness or lack of brain.  
  
I am glad for having retired from my teaching position years ago. Longbottom's children will reach the age of eleven soon and teaching them would surely let me loose the rest of my sanity during the first week and have me spend the remainder of the time given to me at St. Mungos as a gibbering fool, a fate I'd rather avoid.  
  
I may have become old, but I never was and definitely never will be a nice man. I have not gone soft with age and I am glad of that fact. It makes the memories and shattered dreams easier to bear.  
  
I carefully choose the things I need for this special potion, a jar of unicorn tears comes in my hand, but I put it back. Later, when this potion will not help me anymore I will have to take them, but for now the Endurement potion will do.  
  
I put the silver cauldron on the heater, lovingly stroking over its worn surface. I've had it since my first day as a teacher and it is still better than anything you can buy now, the world is changing fast and some changes are not for the better. I have never trusted those mass-produced cauldrons, made by magical machines instead of handiwork.  
  
I prepare everything, cutting, slicing, crushing... Familiar tasks, which I remember doing for the best part of my life. When I am finished with the preparation I mix the ingredients in the cauldron, adding them by feeling without needing to count or weigh, now all I have to do is to stir it clockwise for twenty minutes and the potion will be ready.  
  
Brewing potions calms me every time, gives me time to think, while my hands do the things they are trained to do, automatically. I could do it in my sleep; even the most difficult potions are relatively easy for me by now. I take the potion from the fire to let it cool down, while I go in the kitchen and prepare myself some tea.  
  
Hermione, she still insists on calling me professor, even after all these years. It is somehow assuring, something that never changes. She told me her daughter, my goddaughter, is pregnant. I am probably supposed to send Joanne something. I still remember her as a little girl, seeing her for the first time after the war was over. Her red, bushy hair in two tiny braids, playing with a little broomstick. Now she will soon have a child of her own, sometimes it amazes me how fast the time flies by.

After drinking tea and a dose of the now lukewarm potion I feel better, it is time to continue my writing...  
  
Where did I stop? Yes, the blood oath. The years that followed were rather hectic, after Voldemort was defeated, there were a lot of trials for the suspected Death Eaters. Some of them claimed to have been under the Imperius curse and it was difficult to prove that their claim was a lie.  
  
I was indicted myself, but the ministry had nothing to prove their accusation, that I was still a supporter of the Dark Lord and Albus spoke for me, he had a large amount of influence on the ministry at the time, so I came out of the trial as a free man.  
  
Most of the Death Eaters were send to Azkaban for their crimes and the lucky ones, who managed to escape, kept a low profile, to not draw attention and further accusations to themselves.  
  
The following years, while important to me, have nothing to do with this story, I hope you can forgive me for not writing about them here, I cannot afford to waste more time.  
  
Here is where this story really begins, or sort of. Lily's death would soon have it's tenth annual and the term at Hogwarts started just like every other September.  
  
But for me this term was different than any other. Lily's son was eleven now and would begin his education at Hogwarts. His letter had been sent to him and I was told, that Hagrid was sent to pick him up, to assist him buying his school supplies.  
  
I was terribly nervous that day, something I was not often in my life. I had not seen the boy since he was just a baby and now he would be there and permanently remind me of the fact that Lily had chosen James Potter over me. I did not know if I could handle that, without giving the boy a hard time for things he had had no control over.  
  
I sat at the teacher's table, my face frozen in its usual stoic expression, but my palms where sweating and my mind was spinning.  
  
I can still see him, standing in the midst of a long row of first years, talking to a red headed boy that could only be a Weasley. Molly and Arthur must have used some excellent fertilizing charm to have such a large number of offspring.  
  
The first thing I noticed about him was a mop of raven black hair, untidy standing in every direction. The second were his emerald green eyes, Lily's eyes, the glasses he wore did nothing to hide them.  
  
Except for his eyes he looked just like a smaller copy of Potter, he was shorter and far skinnier, but looked like his father nonetheless. It was a shock for me to see that, how could he dare, how could this boy dare to have the eyes of my beloved Lily in the face of James Potter. I hated him from this instant on. I know it was childish, but I was not above such feelings then and I hated him for it, for making me feel something, for reminding me, for the fact that he was rich and famous. He looked so innocent, so beautiful and surely knew nothing about how hard and painful life could be.  
  
I hated him for being alive because Lily had given hers to save him, but I would hold my vow, I would protect him, with my life if necessary, that did not mean that I also had to like him...


	4. A bath and a letter

_Thank you all for your reviews so far! Here is another chapter, the betaed versions of the first two chapters are also up now, please read and tell me your opinion_

Chapter 3 – A bath and a letter  
  
I lay my quill back down, feeling a bone-deep tiredness, my neck and back feel, like someone has petrified them, stiff and tense, aching from sitting for too long with my head bend over the desk. I long for the soft comfort of my bed, but first I have to do something about those aching muscles, otherwise I will have a hard time moving at all tomorrow.  
  
I close the inkbottle and leave the parchments I have filled so far in a neat stack on the desk, so I won't need to put them in order before I continue tomorrow. I get up slowly, feeling every year of my long life in my aching body. I walk out of the library; the old, dark wood of the floor is creaking underneath the soles of my slippers at the usual spots. I know the noisy floorboards by heart and normally avoid stepping on them, but now I am simply too tired to care.  
  
On my way to the bathroom, I am already scrolling through a list of relaxing potions in my head, which one of them should I use? A simple relaxing draught or something stronger? Maybe 'Total Unloosion' would be a good choice, it is a powerful potion, but I do think I need something this strong tonight. I walk past my potions lab, the wood of the floor now giving way to stone, it is worn and feels smooth under my soles. I go to the door opposite to the living room, for now ignoring the third door, which would lead straight to my bedroom.  
  
I light the candles in the bathroom wandless, only muttering the spell. My skills in wandless magic are growing with time, I am certainly not masterful at it, but good enough to do some minor things.  
  
Another spell, this time with my wand and the large bathtub begins to fill. I take a flask of 'Total Unloosion' from the shelf and add it to the warm water, the potion turns it into an inviting looking azure-blue, which reminds me of the one time I was at the ocean. My mother took me there, when my father was away at some business for the ministry. I remember how I enjoyed playing in the salty seawater. Running to chase the waves, which always kept escaping me. One of the few happy memories I have of my childhood.  
  
I slowly undress, peeling away the many layers of clothing in which I use to hide my body, a habit that comes from years living in cool, damp dungeons.  
  
I start to unbutton the many little buttons at the front of my outer robes, when they are off I let the heavy robes fall to the floor and continue with the shiny pearl buttons of my inner robes. My black shirt comes off next, followed by the grey undershirt I wear beneath it.  
  
Now my upper body is completely bare. I am still lean and slightly muscled, but my body is softer than it used to be and my skin has long lost the resilience of youthfulness. I look at my forearm, on the place where the dark mark used to be, it disappeared without leaving any traces of its existence, the skin there is pale and unmarred. I still sometimes expect to see it, after wearing it for so long it became a part of me, like my fingernails, or my hair, or like...no better not think about it.  
  
Some things you loose hurt less, some more. I am happy that it is gone, but I wish everyday that I would have lost it at a price less high. Enough with thinking about the past, it can't be changed, not even by a wizard. The bathtub is full and I should finish undressing before the water turns cold.  
  
After shedding my trousers, underwear and toeing out of my slippers, I lower myself slowly into the warm water. It feels wonderful, the warmth and the potion loosen the strain in my muscles. I close my eyes, lie back and let myself be engulfed by the warm, wet fluid. Breathing in deeply I try to relax and let my mind become blank.  
  
I decide that it is time again to wash my hair, once the colour of ravens it has turned now nearly completely white, a few black strands here and there are all that remain. I untie the black velvet ribbon, which I use to keep it out of my face and let it slide down over my back and chest. I dip my head under the water surface,as I come up again my hair is sufficiently wet. I take a bottle of hair potion from the edge of the tub and let some of it dripple into my palm,then I slowly massage it into the dripping mass of silvery hair and rinse it out with a quick spell.  
  
After I'm done I pull out the plug and slowly climb out of the bathtub, the strains in my muscles are entirely gone but I am still tired and nearly slip on the wet tiles, before I can manage to steady myself with a hand on the edge of the tub. I do not bother to fold the clothes I discarded earlier, or put them in the hamper. I can do that tomorrow, when I will hopefully feel better after a good nights sleep. I hope it will be undisturbed by nightmares tonight, for once. If only I hadn't used up the last of the 'Dreamless Sleep' potion I had in stock. I am too tired for the two hours it takes to brew a new batch. Tomorrow, I will brew more tomorrow.  
  
First, drying myself off with a big green towel I then put my pyjamas on, black silk like always. I think I probably don't even own a pair of pyjamas that aren't black silk, but he used to like them on me, he said I look gorgeous in them, so I can not bring myself to buy any others, it is just another habit that won't change, no matter how many years go by. I put on a bathrobe over them, the rest of the house is chilly after all, it is just the bathroom that is magically heated. One of the few luxuries I allow myself to have.  
  
I blow out the candles and walk to the bedroom, the floor feels icy under my bare feet and I am glad to finally reach the warm thick rug in my bedroom. A wardrobe, a nightstand and a big four-poster bed are the only furniture in there, the bed is the one I had at Hogwarts, there were to many memories, equally happy and sad ones, attached to it to just leave it there. It is the only piece of furniture I took with me when I retired, apart from the desk that stood in my office, like the bed, too many memories to leave it behind.  
  
Slisra is sleeping on the bed, her long, black and red body coiled into itself. I tell her to make some room for me, she moves away, only to slide her scaly, smooth body around my own, as soon as I lie down, letting her head come to rest at my throat and slightly tickling me with her forked tongue.  
  
She can still understand me, sadly all I hear from her anymore is a soft hiss instead of the words I was able to understand at a time, yet another thing I lost. I enjoy the company of the snake, her gentleness when she sleeps entwined with me, her attempts to comfort me if I have a particularly bad day, but I miss her sometimes snarky and witty remarks. It still feels as if one half of my mind is missing, replaced by a dull black nothingness, will I ever get used to that feeling?  
  
I pull the warm flanell sheets up to my chin, Slisra hisses, unhappy by my movement, maybe I should think about having a permanent heating charm in here too. I probably could ask Hermione to cast it. I am not really that good with charms, I have always prefered potions over the stupid wand waving. Sadly I haven't discovered a room-heating potion yet.  
  
I try to sleep, but sleep won't come. Long forgotten memories come into my head, things I have avoided to think about for years, but now that I started writing it all down, they just keep coming like water dripping trough a hole in a dam until the whole thing breakes down and a unstoppable flood forces it's way through. What a nice metaphor I have come up with, comparing memories with floods, but it is true, once the walls are broken there is no way to stop the flood of memories that threaten to overflow my brain. The time I have left is just too short, how will I be able to get it all written down before it is too late? There must be a way to speed things up, if I could only skip a few years, but they are all so important. I have to tell everything what had happened during Harrys school years for them to understand.  
  
Suddenly I remember something what Hermione mentioned on her visit, about Joanne, yes that could be the solution. I think I may have found a way! I hastily get up and scribble a short letter on a piece of parchment, summon my owl Aristoteles and tell him to get the letter to Joanne as fast as possible. When I lie back down on my pillow and get Slisra to stop hissing at me, for waking her up, sleep finally claims me. I only hope that Joanne will send her reply soon and has everything I need...


	5. A parcel and some reading

Chapter 4 – a parcel and some reading  
  
The next morning I wake up later then usual, it is already 10 o'clock before I can summon enough energy to get out of bed and begin my day, usually I would have been up for four hours already, but tonight I did wake from nightmares several times and had problems to fall asleep again. Slisra is still sleeping. I unwind her from my body, carefully to not disturb her, her only reaction is a silent hiss before she curls up under the warm sheets. I quietly dress and go to the kitchen.  
  
As I am sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast and reading the rubbish printed in the latest copy of the Daily Prophet something pecks urgently against the window. I can only make out a large, and rather unusual shape. I point my wand at it to defend myself against the unknown intruder if necessary, after all it could be some kind of beast, but when I carefully open the window it turns out to be four owls, my own eagle owl one of them, carrying a large parcel. After alleviating the owls of their burden I offer them some owl threats, and note that Aristoteles has a letter tied to his leg. I untie it and am pleased to find out that it is from Joanne, I am grateful that she replied so fast and a bit curious of what she has written so I quickly break the seal of the envelope and unfold the letter it contains.

_ Dear Sevy  
  
__(Yeah, I know that you hate to be called that, I'm doing it anyway so stop complaining)_

__

_I was really surprised over your request. As I remember you never showed any interest in my books before and downright refused to read them or tell me anything about what had happend, if I recall correctly you said you would not participate in something as stupid as writing tales about the insolent Potter brat. So I had to invent the parts about your interaction with Harry when you two were alone, only based on the rumours and stories I heard from mum and the rest of the Hogwarts staff. I am not to blame if things have actually happend differently than I wrote them. It is all your own fault so don't you dare to make any snide remarks about it. I am completly innocent.  
  
But I'm dying to get to know the reason behind your sudden interest, especially as I got you letter in the middle of the night, so prepare yourself for a thorough interrogation during my next visit.  
  
Thank you, for being so kind to ask me about my condition. I would be feeling fine if the enormous stomach I've developed wouldn't be getting in the way all the time and if I could sleep in a even halfway comfortable position. Not to say anything about the fact that my back aches and that I look like a whale. Well I think that was enough with the whining. But you did ask!  
  
I hope you are feeling well, oh dearest godfather of mine, don't spend too much time with your potions and please visit me some time soon. I hope you'll enjoy reading my books after all and I should send you regards from my husband.  
  
Love  
  
Joanne (your annoying goddaughter)_

Yes, annoying would perfectly summarize her behaviour most of the time, maybe it has something to do with pregnancy hormones, on the other hand I do not think so, she was this way since she was a little girl, it was actually adorable...then. She knows well enough how I hate being called Sevy and she does it in every one of her letters just to get on my nerves. What have I done to deserve that? Well, I was a Death Eater and all, but surely I have been punished enough for that already.  
  
It is true, I refused to ever speak with her about Harry, as I refused to speak to anyone else about him. No one knows what has been between us, all that had known are dead. Everyone thinks I still hate him and that this is the reason why I can't stand to speak about him or even hear his name mentioned. They couldn't be more wrong about all of it. To remember the past, to speak about him pains me, that is the reason why I have waited for so long to write about what truly happened. But I have promised and I am a man who holds his word. If I didn't do it now I would take the story to my grave with me and if there is an afterlife I do not intend to meet someone there who is utterly pissed at me, for refusing to do this one last thing for him.  
  
I open the parcel, inside are five books with ridiculously colourful covers and some bad drawings on them, which probably should resemble Harry and some magical creatures. The only cover I find not totally lacking is the one of the thick fifth book; there is a beautiful phoenix on it which looks similar to Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, the mascot of the order. The book is named Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, how fitting.  
  
I look at the list, Joanne has included, about the order in which I should read the books and some other things I should know. The list states that there is one book for each of Harry's school years and that the books have been published as children books for muggles, because the non-magical world still does not believe that magic and the wizarding world exist, even after all that happened during the second war against Voldemort.  
  
Do they really not see or do they simply not want to see?  
  
The muggle children and even a large number of adults seem to like Joanne's books, she had written them under a muggle pseudonym and even gives interviews about them with glamour charms cast on her to disguise her appearance. The books are bestsellers in the muggle world, whatever that should mean. She is currently working on the sixth book, so this means that I will have to begin my story with what happened after Harry's fifth year, if the books turn out to be useful for my purpose.  
  
I begin to read the first book, glad for the fact that I discovered that quickreading charm in the restricted section of the library during my school years.  
  
Five hours later I have already read four of the books and currently am at the last chapter of book five. To my surprise they are mostly accurate, only a couple of minor details had been altered, such as the name of the Coughing Dragon had been changed to the Leaky Cauldron and the way to get to Platform nine and three quarters had also been disguised, some censoring had been done so that the books would be fitting for children, but the major events are all there.  
  
Of course most of what Joanne had written about me and Harry was not even close to the truth, especially that pensieve scene in the fifth book, it was quite entertaining but had never really happened like that. After finishing the rest of the last book it is time to continue my writing. I take another dose of the Endurement potion and walk to the library where I sit down on my favourite armchair and take out a new sheet of parchment. I dip the quill in the inkbottle and begin...

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Before you continue to read this there is something you are required to do first, if you want to be able to understand the rest of this story. Put on some muggle clothes or charm your own ones to look as such, if you are a male wizard remember that male muggles do not wear dresses, as comfortable as they may be. I do not care if you choose to ignore this reminder, enjoy getting stared and laughed at. When you have done that, floo or apparate to the Coughing Dragon visit Gringotts and change some galleons from your vault into muggle money.  
  
Then go into the muggle world and look for a bookstore. They should be easy to find, just look for books in the shop windows or ask a muggle where to find one.  
  
If your search has been successful tell the shopkeeper that you want the Harry Potter books by J.K.Rowling, there are five of them. They are supposed to be children books, but I have been told that it is not unusual for adult muggles to buy them. Don't shrink them in order to carry them; you will get a bag for that purpose.  
  
Go back to your mansion, house, flat or where ever you live, and read all five books. Apart from some minor details they are mostly accurate, the few things which are not, will be explained later in my story so when you have finished reading, you should know everything necessary to be able to follow the rest of my writing.

* * *

_A/N: Please review and tell me what you think of it! Questions? Comments?  
  
The next chapter will start at the summer after Harry's fifth year and I decided to change the rating to R ,because in the following chapters will be some violence and mentions of child abuse. _


	6. A grieving werewolf and a tingling scar

Chapter 5 – A grieving werewolf and a tingling scar  
  
So here is where my story really begins. Harry had been sent to his relatives, for the summer holidays after his fifth year at Hogwarts, to renew the protection that the blood of his aunt and cousin gave him.  
  
As always he had made a big fuss about wanting to stay at Hogwarts or at the Order's headquarters. At that time I did not understand why he refused to go to his relatives. I thought he just wanted to cause a scene to show he was above the rules, the rest of the students had to follow, like the spoiled celebrity I thought he was. If only I had known then how wrong my assumptions about him were, but to my shame I was as clueless as the rest of us.  
  
I stayed at Grimmault place during the summer, only occasionally flooing back to Hogwarts to get some books from my quarters or to brew a potion that needed to be made within the safety of the special security wards my potions lab was equipped with.  
  
In his will, surprising as it was that the mutt had had enough brains to write one, Black had left the house to the Order and the only permanent occupants residing there at this time were Lupin and me.  
  
Because we were in lack of a house elf, Kreacher having ran away as soon as his master was dead, Molly Weasley came by almost daily to cook and attempt to clean the house, even if it was a lost cause. The layers and layers of dirt, dust and cobwebs that had gathered during more than twelve years of neglect, wouldn't entirely yield to her cleaning charms. The house would have never become the sunny, homey place she wanted it to be, too much dark magic had been performed in it. The blood that had been spilled in the confines of these walls would always leave some traces of its existence behind, though they weren't visible ones.  
  
Lupin wasn't the best company of course, even if I had been actually comfortable around the werewolf, something I was most certainly not, after what had happened at the Shack when we were in school together. Black's prank could have been fatal for me if Potter hadn't intercepted and all just because Potter's lapdog hadn't liked the fact that I had been in love with the same girl as his best friend.  
  
Remus Lupin and me had been something like friends before this occurrence, I had tutored him in Potions and he, in turn, had helped me with Defense. We got along quite well when he didn't have his annoying friends in tow.  
  
When the two of as were alone I saw a whole different side of him, one he usually did not show in public. During our tutoring sessions he transformed from the laughing and joking prankster into a quiet, thoughtful boy, who was highly intelligent and had a natural talent for teaching. Because of him my DADA marks increased remarkably.  
  
After the attack during which I discovered, that he was a werewolf, I couldn't stand to be near him anymore and I have told him that in a rather crude way.  
  
Although I logically knew that it was Black's fault and Lupin could have done nothing to prevent it, I was always reminded of the mortal fear and helplessness I had felt when he was attacking me, whenever I saw the last remaining marauder.  
  
What had happened at the end of Harry's third year didn't help the matter either, it had reminded me too much of that fateful night and I was relieved that Lupin had left the school afterwards. I hadn't been comfortable at all with Albus decision, to let him teach at Hogwarts despite his lycanthropy and I couldn't refrain from being secretly gleeful, because I was proven right. I was barely able to restrain myself from telling the Headmaster "I told you so."  
  
This summer I had been reluctant to stay at Grimmault Place with the werewolf being there too, but the wards at the school had to be strengthened over the holidays, in case the Dark Lord would decide to attack Hogwarts, so I had no other options.  
  
As things were, I hardly ever met Lupin during the first three weeks of the summer. He spend most of his time in the master bedroom he had shared with the mutt, grieving for his fellow canine and only coming out of the room if absolutely necessary to eat or take his wolfsbane during the full moon.  
  
On this occasions I couldn't refrain from seeing his red rimmed eyes with the deep shadows beneath them and the general lousy state he was in. He must have really loved Black, even if I cannot think of a reason why someone could have loved that arrogant and stupid bastard.  
  
As I discovered later, Black had been Lupin's mate since they were seventeen and due to the fact that once a werewolf has mated, he is bound to stay with his chosen mate until one of them dies, not even the years during which they were separated could destroy the feelings they held for each other.  
  
Lupin had thought that Black had betrayed the Potters but he had still loved the idiot, not trusted him, but loved him. It must have been a hard time for him being alone for so long. No wonder that they were back to behaving like a bickering, married old couple, as soon as Lupin had discovered that Black was innocent.  
  
But now that the mutt was gone for good, and Lupin was alone once again, the former DADA teacher was almost good for nothing, rarely speaking more than one word at a time and annoying the hell out of me with his languidness about everything that happened around him. It was as if a major part of the werewolf had died with his beloved dog.

* * *

It was on a late afternoon in the third week of the holidays, when the scar in my palm, a reminder of the oath I had sworn to Lily, began to tingle. That had happened before, whenever Harry Potter had been in life threatening danger, so at least once a year since he had reached the age of eleven. I hastily got up from the kitchen table where I had been eating dinner, knocking over the teapot in my haste to reach the fireplace and call Albus.  
  
As I approached it, the Headmaster was already there, talking with Lupin and sounding more worried than I had heard him in a long time.  
  
"Albus, tell me what that stupid brat has got himself into this time." I demanded to know.  
  
"I do not know yet, Severus, my dear boy. The wards I put up at Harry's home, alarmed me only minutes ago that something is very wrong with him. I came here to meet Remus and Arthur. As soon as the latter arrives, we will go straight to Privet Drive to investigate what is happening there."

The twinkle that normally inhabited the Headmaster's eyes was absent and his face held a grave expression. "I am afraid there is the possibility that Death Eaters are involved." He said, sadly shaking his head. "Have you heard anything recently that would indicate that Voldemort was planing to attack the boy?"  
  
"No Albus, I am sorry but I have heard nothing about such plans." The tingle in my scar had become more intense, like tiny needles being repeatedly shoved into my bare skin.  
  
"I thought that no Death Eater could enter Harry's home because of the protection from his relatives' blood?" Lupin asked, seeming to be pulled out of the stupor, he had spent his life in for the past weeks, by his concern for Potter.  
  
"They cannot enter the house or apparate into its direct surroundings, but if they were to catch Harry outside the warded area, I'm afraid there is nothing there to protect him. However, before I left him with his relatives, I told Harry not to leave the house in any case, until someone of the Order came to pick him up. So we shouldn't have to worry about this scenario occurring." Albus said.  
  
I levered a disbelieving gaze at the Headmaster, didn't the man see that his golden boy Potter was not one who followed orders or sticked to the rules? He was headstrong and stupid, just like his disgusting father had been. Albus didn't react, at least not in a visible way, but I knew he had noticed, nothing escaped that man's attention. He kept on talking:  
  
"Also there exists a small loophole which I wasn't able to find a counterspell against. If someone inside the house were to invite the Death Eaters in, they would be able to enter." The Headmaster frowned. "But I do not think that his relatives would be foolish enough to actually do such a thing. I have sent them a letter to warn them of what could happen if they let any strangers inside."  
  
At this moment the fireplace blazed with green flames and Arthur stepped out coughing. "Albus, I came as fast as I was able to, without raising suspicions at the ministry. The letter you owled me didn't give a reason why you wanted to meet me in such a hurry. So, what's going on?" He asked, his voice hoarse from inhaling too much floopowder and soot during his travel.  
  
"I'm afraid there is something happening at Harry's home, Death Eaters might be involved so it wasn't save to mention it in a letter in case the owl got intercepted." The Headmaster replied.  
  
The eldest Weasley looked at him dumbstruck, apparently shocked by this revelation. "But,...but the wards, you said it was save for him there, otherwise I would have insisted to have him stay the summer at the Burrow, you know that Molly and I think of him as one of our own children."  
  
"Please, could we discuss that later? You are wasting time we don't have. We have to get to Harry as soon as possible, he could get killed otherwise if we aren't there to help him. I can't loose him too. I just bloody can't." Lupin's voice steadily increased in volume until he nearly shouted. He had to be more distressed then I assumed, to raise his voice in front of the Headmaster.  
  
"I am sorry, Remus, my boy. I know how important Harry is to you. We will apparate in an instant." Albus said, then he turned to address me: "Severus, I am afraid you will have to stay behind, in case there really are Death Eaters there, your cover would be blown and you are too valuable to our cause to risk that."  
  
"But..." I was about to tell him that I had to go there, cover be fucked, my oath entitled me to do so. But he interrupted me: "If you would be so kind to meanwhile arrange a bedroom for Harry and contact Poppy to come here immediately, that would be very helpful. We will hopefully be back soon."  
  
"But..." I tried again but he wouldn't let me finish my sentence. "Sorry, Severus but that will be the last word in that matter. Will I have to actually have to order you to stay here?"  
  
"No, Headmaster." If gazes could kill, Albus would have dropped dead on the floor at this instant. The tingling sensation in my scar was getting more painful by the minute and I knew from experience, that I wouldn't have any peace until the brat wasn't in danger anymore.  
  
The three men disapparated instantly and left me standing alone in the bloody headquarters. I hated staying behind and helplessly having to wait what news they would bring. I stared at the spot they had just vacated for about a minute, before I sighed, straightened and walked up the stairs to prepare a room.


	7. A diary and a growing puzzle

_A/N: Thank you all so much for reviewing, here is another chapter. I hope you'll like it. Several of you have mentioned that my chapters are too short, I'll try to make them longer, but it's either short chapters or less frequent updates. Please, tell me which you would prefer._

Chapter 6 – A diary and a growing puzzle

After writing that last paragraph I get up from my desk to retrieve a small tome from the bookshelf on the opposite wall. It is bound in worn down, black leather and has a faded, silvery moon engraved on its cover. I thumb through the pages until I find the date I am looking for. There, everything I need to continue with my story, written down in Lupin's neat handwriting.

I sit back down and use _Effingorus, _a copying spell, to transfer the contents of the entry to blank, new sheets of parchment.

At first I had planned to simply add the whole diary to my finished stack of parchments, with instructions where to find the parts that are relevant to this story, but after reading it through I have decided against it, some things he has written in there are too personal to share with the public.

I know, he is long dead and won't be affected by it, but it does not seem right to me, without asking for his consent first. It is funny, what time does to people. Years ago I would not have had such qualms, I think Harry's influence has finally achieved to somewhat corrupt my Slytherin to the core personality.

Alas, I dip my quill into the inkbottle and continue my writing...

* * *

As I was not allowed to go to Privet Drive on that night, I had not witnessed the things that occurred there. I did not find out what had happened exactly, until years later and that had only been a fractured report, interrupted by long pauses, during which the person that told it to me wet my robes with his sobs and tears.

Fortunately I have come into the possession of Lupin's diary after the werewolf had passed away. He has written in a mostly clear and detailed way about what has occurred after the events I mentioned earlier:

# Excerpt from the Diary of Remus John Lupin #

-5 July, 1996-

Dear Padfoot,

I know I have not written in this diary for a long time, but today something happened, something which is troubling me a great deal and you said to me once, that writing things down helps to order the mess in one's mind. I will write it as if it would be a letter to you. I think that will make it easier for me.

After Albus caught us in the entrance hall and send me up here, I went straight to my room and began pacing back and forth on the worn carpet, occasionally throwing a glance to the small wooden desk in the corner I'm sitting at right now and the diary lying there, as if waiting for me to write everything down to get it out of my head.

I needed to calm down a little first, before I was able to write about what had happened at Harry's so called home.

The pacing did not help me to get any calmer but it gave me something to release a small part of the pent up anger my body was filled with.

I had to stop myself several times from running straight out of the door and all the way back to that poor excuse for a human being, Harry's uncle is, to rip his heads off and claw with my blunt nails into his body until he would be reduced to a dead mass of torn flesh.

I think I have already told you that the wolf in me considers Harry a packmate's offspring. Therefore it wanted, for once, the same as me: Vengeance for what has been done to him, to let his uncle feel exactly what he must have felt. But I'm reaching to far forth with this, let me tell it to you from the beginning.

Dumbledore had come to Grimmauld Place to inform me, that there was something happening at Harry's relatives' home. He asked me to accompany him and Arthur on a mission, to find out what was wrong.

I was already anxious before we apparated to Privet Drive, when they wasted their time talking instead of getting to aide Harry instantly I became so upset, I began to shout at them. I feared for Harry's life, I could not loose him too like I have lost all of you.

It was all partially my fault anyway, as soon as Albus had told me that there was something wrong with Harry I felt a tremendous amount of guilt wallowing up inside of me.

Harry had come to me before he departed on the Hogwarts Express and pleaded, nearly begged me to let him stay the summer with me. Before your death I would have had the presence of mind to question him further about the reasons why he didn't want to stay with his relatives. But after your death I was in so much grieve and despair, that I simply didn't have the energy to think about anything other than the fact that I had lost you yet again.

It was nearly unbearable when you were taken from me the first time, but at least then I knew that you were alive. I still did have hope to be reunited with you some day, but now, now I haven't even that hope left anymore.

I said to Harry that I couldn't help him and then told him to leave me alone. I saw, that I had hurt him with that, but I just couldn't bring myself to care about it. It is as if there was a Remus Lupin that existed prior to your death and one that exists now and the two of them have not much in common.

After I dismissed Harry I walked out of Hogwarts, straight to the apparation point, from where I apparated back to Grimmauld Place. It was time for me to go back there and face my fears.

You know, after you fell through the veil, I had been afraid to go back to the room we formerly shared, afraid of how it would be like to be there without you being there too. I was grateful that the Headmaster had let me stay at the school in the days following your death. I couldn't have managed to stay at your house on my own, in that first day, without getting stupid ideas of ending my miserable existence to be together with you again. I have become so dependant on your company over the course of the last two years.

Forgive me Padfoot, for I am digressing, I will go back to write about what has happened tonight.

After the Headmaster had finished speaking with Professor Snape we disapparated at once to Little Whinging. We couldn't apparate to anywhere near the house, so we had to run the rest of the way. Due to the extra strength and stamina my lycanthropy gives me, I arrived there earlier than the other two. I let my senses roam but could not sense any person that smelled of magic nor traces of any magic having been used in the area surrounding the house, within the last few hours.

I was relieved at that discovery at first, it did mean that there was no immediate threat of Death Eaters ready for a fight, but then I began to worry again, if it wasn't an attack then what else could be wrong with Harry?

Finally, Albus and Arthur arrived too and I quickly told them what I had found out so far. We decided that it would be best to approach the house and enter to investigate further. The Headmaster cast a sleeping charm that worked solely on muggles, so the house's inhabitants wouldn't get in our way. It was easier than having to obliviate them later.

Arthur used _Alohomora_ to unlock the front door and we got inside. The house was dark, the only audible sounds were the noises the muggle's electrical devices made and a muted snoring from upstairs.

After charming the windows to be opaque, because we didn't want to alarm any neighbours, who might have been awake, we turned on the lights and began to search for Harry and any clues for what had happened here, tonight.

We decided to check the ground floor first, in case it was, after all, a trap set up by Voldemort's followers and we would need to get out quickly.

Everything was tidy and neat looking, no signs that there had been a fight anywhere, no traces of any Death Eaters being present either. I let my werewolf senses take over and looked for remains of blood or something similar, which would have given us any sort of indications.

My scent led me to the backdoor in the kitchen. On the doorstep were blood stains, but they were already dry and seemed to be a few days old, so rather then solving this puzzle it created another one. Why would Harry's relatives have bloodstains at their backdoor in an otherwise obsessively clean house and most importantly, whose blood was it?

Just as I was about to return to the others and tell them of what I had found, I heard Arthur calling out for us. I hurried into the direction his voice came from, to find him and Albus standing at the open door of a cupboard under the stairs. I walked nearer and peeked over Arthur's shoulder to see what they were looking at. The next second I wished I hadn't, because the view that presented itself to me was a disturbing one.

Inside the cupboard was Harry's school trunk and atop of it a cage, a cage in which a motionless snowy owl lay. Hedwig, I remembered that that was the name Harry had given her.

The cage's bottom was covered with excretions and the owl was lying right there in her own waste, too weak to sit on her perch. It looked like no one had tended to the cage or the owl in the last three weeks and judging by the stench that came out through the opened cupboard door, possibly nobody had.

Hedwig was entirely to thin and as I let my gaze wander more thoroughly over the cage and her unmoving body I discovered the reason why she wasn't moving, there was not the tiniest drop of water left in her bowl. She must be seriously dehydrated and if it was already bad enough that she couldn't even sit anymore, her chances did not look good. I cast a sad glance at Albus, he looked back at me with equal sadness in his eyes. Depending on when her water supply had been exhausted, probably the only thing we would be able to do for her was to give her a quick, painless death instead of letting her suffer for much longer.

How had she come to be in such a bad condition, anyway? It wasn't like Harry to neglect his owl, from watching him with her, one could see how much he cared for her wellbeing. So why did we found her dying in her cage in a locked cupboard then? It all made less and less sense.

After cleaning the cage with a quick cast spell and giving her some water, all that could be done for her at the moment, we decided to continue our search upstairs, we had to find Harry immediately, if his owl was in such a condition I didn't dare to think about what state your godson might be in.

The stairs we were ascending creaked rather noisily on certain spots but none of us cared, all three of us had only one goal, find Harry as fast as possible and meanwhile pray to Merlin that he would be still alive when we found him. As I quickly told the others about the blood I had discovered downstairs, we reached the first floor.

There were four doors leading from the hallway we were standing in, the first one turned out to belong to a bathroom, we tried the second door behind which the snoring from earlier could be heard, only a hell of a lot louder.

Arthur silently opened the door to reveal a large bed with a bony looking woman whose face did very much resemble a horse, Petunia, Lily's sister sleeping on the left side and a bulky man with an enormous moustache who was the source of the snoring we heard earlier, her husband Vernon, sleeping on the right side.

I quickly glanced at the photos, arranged like a shrine for some deity, on Petunia's nightstand but they were all of a fat little boy, probably Harry's cousin Dudley. There was also a bottle containing some muggle medicine, but I didn't paid it any further attention. We walked out unnoticed by the sleeping muggles and continued our search.

The next door we tried led to a large room that seemed to be filled with broken electronic things and broken furniture. It looked like someone had trashed everything in there with a sledgehammer, but why? Another unanswered question. And where the hell was Harry's cousin? He should have been sleeping somewhere on this floor too.

The fourth door was the only one left so if Harry was still here, he had to be in the room behind it. The door was locked with no less than four heavy locks, my confusion increased tenfold, the whole house was becoming a mystery to me, nothing we found seemed to make any sense.

The Headmaster finally lost his patience when he saw the locks and let the door vanish with a flick of his wand. We looked anxiously into the room behind it and were greeted by a view so horrible that it will be branded into my mind for the rest of my life. Albus buried his head in his trembling hands muttering a stream of words that sounded like "No, my fault, all of it my fault."

Arthur's choked out "Oh, Merlin" was followed by him bolting past me to reach the toilet from where I soon heard the unmistakably noises of someone throwing up. My own reaction was an anguished howl, before I hurried into the room to Harry's side, gently lifted his wrist, the one that seemed to be undamaged, in my hands and began to frantically search for a pulse...

_A/N: Sorry for leaving you with such a cliff-hanger but it was necessary. I'll try to write and post the next chapter as fast as possible._


	8. An injured boy and disturbing news

_A/N: Thank you all so much for your nice reviews! Here is another chapter, I hope you'll like it and I haven't let you wait for it too long. This chapter is unbetaed because my beta-reader is currently on vacation. Please forgive me for any mistakes or typos you might find, they will be corrected as soon as she is back._

Chapter 7 – An injured boy and disturbing news

I laid my forefinger on Harry's wrist as gently as possible in fear of causing further damage to him. To my big relieve I discovered a pulse, faint, but at least his heart was still beating. He also was hardly breathing, there was only the slightest up and down movement of his torso to indicate that his lungs were still working. The room I was in looked awful, every last piece of furniture seemed to be shattered and there was blood...oh Merlin, so much blood everywhere, most of it surrounding Harry in a steadily growing puddle.

The wolf in me got excited by the scent of it, fresh blood was something it hadn't smelled in a long time, it was hard for me to remain somewhat calm and in control of the beast that suddenly acted like it wanted to claw its way out of my confining body.

Harry looked terrible, like someone had tried to slaughter him. What little clothing he wore, was torn and dirty and his whole body was covered with cuts, some of which seemed to be awfully deep. He also had large bruises on several places, that looked suspiciously like the result of being kicked by heavy, worker boots.

Someone had left him here to bleed to death and if we had come any later, that someone would probably have succeeded. He would have still achieved his goal if we wouldn't have done something to stop the blood, flowing freely out of the boy's many wounds, soon.

I allowed myself to briefly pet Harry's cheek to reassure me, that we weren't too late, that he was still there, still alive. Then I pulled my wand out of its holster and cast _Resarciorus _in an attempt to seal his many wounds. The spell did work to some degree, it achieved to mend the minor wounds, but healing wasn't exactly my field of work. As a Defense teacher, it was necessary for me to know some healing charms and potions, but I wasn't a medi-wizard and healing charms as complicated as the ones to heal someone as badly wounded as Harry, far exceeded my abilities.

I stood up and approached the Headmaster, he was the only person present, who could do healing magic on a medi-wizard's level. I laid my hand on his shoulder but he didn't acknowledge my presence. I gently shook him to snap him out of his current state. I knew he blamed himself for the condition Harry was in, after all he was the one who decided to send Harry here, he thought that this place was save for James' and Lily's son. "Albus," I softly addressed him "You couldn't have known, it isn't you fault. Please Headmaster, Harry needs you now, my healing charm wasn't able to stop the bleeding."

At this he looked up and finally seemed to notice me. "Of course Remus, please excuse my reaction. For a moment I allowed my guilt to overwhelm me." He uneasily twirled the end of his long white beard between his fingers and sighed. "It is just that I did not believe, that something could happen to him while he is here, with all the wards that have been set up and the blood protection. I have become careless in my old age, too confident in my abilities, to notice the flaws in my plan and it did nearly cost him his live." He sighed once again, straightening his stooped posture. "I promise you, my boy, that I will do everything in my power to help him. You will not lose Harry too."

He went to kneel down next to Harry's battered body and I followed him there. I took Harry's small hand in mine and held it, while Albus cast a charm, which would temporary stop the bleeding until Mme. Pomfrey could heal the wounds properly.

Meanwhile, Arthur had come back to the room. He was pale and his whole body was trembling. "Is he...?" he asked quietly in a quavering voice.

"If you mean dead, then no Arthur. Fortunately, Harry is still alive," the Headmaster said. "But his condition is critical. We need to transport him to Grimmauld Place immediately, so Poppy can tend to his wounds."

"Thank Merlin!" Arthur said, his tremendous relief evident in his voice. "Who did this to him? I swear, when I find the person who is responsible for this, they are going to wish they would have never laid even a finger on Harry." he exclaimed aggravated.

"I can understand your sentiment, but we do not know yet who did this to him." Albus said, once more calm and in control of the situation. "I think it would be wise for you to stay here and call a few trustworthy Aurors for reinforcement. Harry's relatives need to be questioned and I don't want the ministry to get wind of the situation at this time. I want to keep this secret as long as possible, if the press were to find out it would cause an enormous scandal, something for which we don't have time at the moment. It is unavoidable that they will find out eventually, but for now the fewer who know, the safer it is for the boy."

"Yes, Headmaster I understand." Arthur said. "I'll call Shacklebolt and Tonks as soon as you've left. After we're done here I'll bring Harry's things over."

"Now that that's settled, can we go please?" I said, still holding Harry's hand. I hadn't let go of it during their conversation and wanted nothing more than to leave this place soon.

"We will, my boy, we will. Let me conjure a portkey to take the three of us out of here." Albus said. He transformed a random piece of debris and held it out to me.

I wrapped Harry into a torn blanket that had been lying nearby. I didn't see his glasses anywhere, if they weren't in his trunk, he would have to do without until we could buy new ones. Then I laid my and Harry's still joined hands onto the portkey. Soon, I felt the familiar tuck in my stomach, which indicated that it had been activated. A second later, we arrived at the entrance hall at Grimmauld Place.

Poppy was already awaiting us, standing next to a scowling Professor Snape and muttering something about stupid schoolboys that brought themselves into more trouble than good for them and expected her to patch them up again, every time. As soon as she saw Harry she became silent. I may have imagined it but I think I heard a gasp and a muttered curse from Snape's direction.

"Albus, what happened to the boy?" the mediwitch asked. "Who has done this to him?"

"He was attacked; by whom we do not know at this time," the Headmaster answered her. "Could you please give him a look-over and vet his wounds?"

"Of course, Albus. I'll do what I can for him."

Mme. Pomfrey was instantly in full mediwitch mode. She conjured a stretcher and ushered us away from Harry's unconscious form. I was reluctant to let go of his hand but a stern look from Poppy convinced me that it was necessary. She gently levitated his body onto the stretcher and then gestured it to follow her upstairs to the room, Snape had previously prepared. We silently tugged along behind her, none of us felt like speaking.

Once she had laid the boy onto the clean, white sheets of the bed and unwrapped the blanket from his body, she took an audible gulp of breath. Then she began to strip the tattered remains of his clothes off him carefully. As soon as he was naked and the full extent of his injuries was visible, we all gasped in unison. I had known that his condition was bad, but all those horrible wounds, some of which I hadn't seen before, showed just how bad it was. With a grim expression, Poppy raised her wand and began to examine her patient thoroughly. Speaking quietly to herself and muttering curses the whole time.

She sent Snape away with a list of potions she would need and, as soon as he had brought them, began to administer the multicoloured fluids internally and externally, to Harry's still unmoving body. After she cast some additional charms to speed up the healing process and another one to alarm her immediately, if his condition would change, she covered him with several layers of sheets to keep him warm and signalled us to follow her outside.

We walked downstairs and gathered around the kitchen table. When all of us were seated, the mediwitch began her report. "The boy has a large number of wounds, some of which are close to essential organs, they all appear to be caused by a kitchen knife or something similar. Then there are several contusions and broken bones. A broken rib has punctured his right lung, which has collapsed, but the left lung is fortunately still working and I have already given him a potion, to heal the injured lung and get it to function again."

She striped a stray strand of hair, which had escaped the tight bun she wore her hair in, from her sweaty forehead and continued. "He has lost a large amount of blood, but I am already working on substituting it with potions. Furthermore he has a concussion, probably caused by his head colliding with some hard surface. In addition he is undernourished and dehydrated, it seems that he hasn't had any food for at least two weeks and no water in the last two or three days. All this considered it is a miracle that he is still alive." She said, sounding fatigued.

"Will he survive?" I asked in a strained voice.

"In the light of his injuries, his condition is as good as it can be, but it is still critical. I can't make any reliable predictions on his survival until he regains consciousness. I'm sorry that I can't say anything more reassuring." Poppy said.

"How are his chances, Poppy?" Albus asked.

"From a medical point? His chances are low, but personally I think that he is a survivor, he has already endured longer than I would have expected him to, given the amount of his injuries. I have done everything that can be wizardly done for him at the moment, Albus. Now we can only hope and pray that he wakes up soon." The mediwitch answered.

Snape had been uncharacteristically silent during the whole conversation. He was steadily rubbing the palm of his right hand, as if something was hurting him there. Suddenly he stood up and strode out of the room, his robes billowing behind him. I was about to go after him but the Headmaster held me back.

"He won't talk to you, Remus. It would be unwise to follow him, he might get nasty if you'd confront him right now. He is upset about Harry's condition and doesn't want us to notice that he cares," Albus said. "Severus needs to be alone at the moment, please respect his need for privacy."

I wanted to reply something, but we were interrupted by the fireplace blazing green and Arthur's head appearing in the flames, his face contorted with anger. "Albus, we have found the little piece of crap that tried to kill Harry," he shouted.

All of us remaining occupants of the room hastily gathered around the fireplace, anxious to hear who it was.

"Please, take a deep breath and tell it to us from the beginning," Albus said.

Arthur followed his advise, then he started speaking: "I called Tonks and told her to come to Privet Drive and bring Shacklebolt with her. I said that it was Order business, so she knew that they had to be secretive. When they arrived we released the muggles from the sleeping charm. Then...then she, he." Arthur took another deep breath. "They were shocked to see us there and Harry's aunt started to babble something incoherent, his uncle petted her back and told her to be silent and take her pills, once she had taken them she didn't seem to notice anything that was going on around her anymore. I think she is insane, she perpetually muttered something about her Duddybaby, how nice he looked today and what a big boy he had become. Because we couldn't get anything useful out of her we started to question Mr. Dursley. He...he...he said...said that..."

"Shh, Arthur my boy, everything is all right. Here, drink this." Albus walked to the fireplace, a cup of tea in his hand, which he made Arthur drink up. "The Calming potion with which the tea was spiked should start to take effect any second now. Please continue Arthur."

"Yes Albus. Now as I said, we questioned Dursley and he outright admitted that he was the one who did this to Harry. He..." his voice faltered again, but the potion finally showed effects and Arthur was able to continue. "He said that it was all Harry's own fault. That...that the little freak had it coming for a long time now. He...he said that he only took revenge for his precious Duddykins, because freaks like Harry were responsible. Then he said....said that he should have done this a long time ago. Should have d...dr...drowned him, when he found him as an infant on his doorstep. Said that it would have saved his family from us evil freaks."

Arthur mussed his already messy hair with one hand. "We arrested him immediately and called muggle doctors to take care of his wife. He laughed when we arrested him, laughed in our faces and as Tonks asked him if he wasn't sorry or ashamed, to have done this to his own nephew, he said that he had enjoyed it. Merlin, I wanted to use an Unforgivable on him then and there." Arthur fell silent, his eyes shone with unshed tears of rage.

I had heard enough, I took off in direction of the front door to do what Arthur had restrained himself from. This muggle was going to wish that I would have merely used an Unforgivable. In the hallway I ran into Snape who had heard everything from his position standing there and was now headed into the same direction as myself. His face was a mask of hatred and I was tempted to propose to him to conjointly torture Harry's uncle. His skills in the Dark Arts and my physical strength would warrant hours of pain for Vernon. Albus thundering "STOP!" detained our race to the door.

The Headmaster stepped into the entrance hall and looked at both of us sternly. "I know what you two are planing, but I won't let you leave!" he said. "I cannot allow the two of you to become murderers, if the ministry would find out that you murdered a muggle, you would both be sent to Azkaban faster as I can say 'Lemon Drop'. Is it this what you want? Spend the rest of your life in Azkaban? I would have expected better from you two, especially from you Remus." Albus glanced at us sadly.

"Go to your rooms now, I will inform you if anything in Harry's condition changes. You are both vital members of the Order and I can't afford to loose you, therefore you may not leave your rooms until you have calmed down," he said.

When Albus was like this, which was luckily seldom, it was of no use to argue with him. Severus and I glanced at each other and then ascended the stairs to our rooms.

Well Padfoot, that's how I ended up here, writing in my journal. You can hopefully see now why I'm so aggravated. If you had been in my place, I think you would have ignored the Headmaster and would have gone to punish Harry's uncle anyway, wouldn't you?

I am so sorry that I haven't protected Harry better for you. I know it is my fault for not listening to him when he came to me. I am so sorry, Padfoot. Will you forgive me?

You hopefully see my reason now, why I'm going to ask Albus to assign me, instead of Fletcher, to travel to India for the Order and look for allies in the wizarding community there. I know that I'm running away again, something I'm good at, as you would point out to me. But, I can't bear to look at Harry now, look into his eyes and see the accusations in them. I am afraid that he will blame me for his condition, because I didn't stop his uncle from hurting him, didn't prevent him from having to go back to his relatives. I have failed him and I can't bear to be near him, knowing just how much I have failed him.

My eternal love is yours, my dear Padfoot, as I have sworn to you so long ago. I hope you aren't too angry at me and still think of me sometimes, wherever you may be now. I miss you so much and I wish you were here now, you would know what to do, you always did.

Forever,

Moony

# End of Excerpt from the Diary of Remus John Lupin #

_A/N: I hope the length of the chapter was satisfying, it refused to get any longer than this. Liked it? Hated it? Please review and tell me your opinion._


	9. A puzzle piece falls into place

_A/N: I want to thank you all for your nice reviews! Et Voila, here is another chapter. I hope you'll like it and the wait hasn't been too long. I also want to thank _**Ash Knight**_ for betaing this chapter for me. __Please, let me remind you that this story is rated R for a reason. There are mentions of violence in this and probably also in the next chapter. So, that's it for now. Read, enjoy and please don't forget to review._

Chapter 8 – A puzzle piece falls into place

I pick up my quill, dip it into the inkbottle and want to continue my writing, but my hands are shaking too badly, to produce something readable. Spilling tiny dots of wet, black ink all over the parchment. A look at the clock reveals that it is long past dinner time and I haven't eaten anything since breakfast, nor have I taken my potion. No wonder that my hands aren't steady.

With a sigh, I get up and walk the short way to the kitchen to prepare myself a quick meal. After having eaten it and having taken another dose of the Endurement potion, I feel marginally better, at least well enough to write again. But I wonder how much longer it will take, until I have to revert to the unicorn tears. I hope it will take some more time, until my condition will get this bad.

I get back to my desk, crumble the soiled sheet of parchment into a little ball and take out a fresh one. I dip the quill into the inkbottle, satisfied that my hands are steady once more, and begin to write...

* * *

After Albus, meddling old fool that he was, had dismissed us to our rooms, I felt restless. The pain in my palm was still prominent and I was oh so angry at the Headmaster, for having stopped me. There were some curses and potions, which I desperately wanted to use on that Dursley. Albus' interference had prevented me from making the damn muggle scream for hours, until he wouldn't have been able to scream anymore. I would have liked to hear him scream, beg, plead. To have shown him exactly, why a muggle should know better than to lay his filthy hands on a wizard.

In the long run, it was probably for the better that Dumbledore hadn't allowed Lupin and me to go out on that night. We surely would have ended up killing Harry's uncle, which would have had dire consequence for both of us, there are laws forbidding such things, after all. But at that time, I did not think about possible consequences, all I could think about was my anger and my wish for revenge.

No muggle should be allowed to get away with harming the child I had sworn to protect.

Well, everything considered, the long years the muggle did suffer in Azkaban, until he finally achieved to put himself out of his misery, were probably worse, than a few hours of torture and afterwards being killed quickly by Lupin and me. In any case Dursley had got what he deserved, even when I would have preferred to punish him for what he did myself, instead of leaving this task to the ministry.

But I am wandering off the point here, I should continue with the further happenings of the night.

If I recall correctly, I spent another hour in my room, until I couldn't stand it any longer to remain there. Skilled at spying and therefore being as stealthy as I was, I sneaked out of it and went to see Harry. Fortunately for me, there was no one, expect for Harry of course, in his room when I silently approached it. I could hear the muffled sounds of a conversation from the kitchen downstairs, probably Albus and Poppy discussing Harry's condition.

The door to Harry's room was not entirely closed, so it didn't make any sound as I quietly pulled it open further, just enough to get in. After I had sneaked inside, I pushed it back into its original position, so that the others wouldn't find out too easily that I was there, when I was supposed to be in my own room.

I sat down on a chair beside the boy's bed, looking worriedly at his still unmoving body. There was the slightest movement of the sheets, as a sign, that he was still breathing, but otherwise he was entirely too quiescent. No thrashing, no turning, just nothing. So unusual to see such stillness from a boy of his age, who were normally so active at all times, even in sleep.

Because the lights were out, I wasn't able see his injuries, which was probably for the better. I didn't want to see him this weak, this broken. It contradicted the whole picture of him, I had built up in my mind for the five school years, during which I did have to see him on a regular basis. I had come to know him quite well during these years, or so I had previously thought.

The Harry Potter that had lived in my mind was strong, insolent, a pain in the arse, but never had I previously pictured him as someone who was not invulnerable, who came not out of any dangerous situation nearly unscathed.

I had always imagined his life at his relatives to be that of a spoiled prat. I had thought, he did live there like a prince, being spoiled rotten, getting everything what he wanted, always the centre of their attention. Never would I have thought that it was actually much different than I had expected it to be.

As bad as my own family had been, my father would have never attempted to murder me. Beat me up, of course, but murder? Children in the wizarding world were too rare and precious too even think about such a thing occurring.

It was disturbing to know the truth; I rather would have had my assumptions and ignorance back. If someone would have asked me, hours before this occurrence, what I think about Potter, I would have told the person that I hate him, because he is exactly like his father, the same snooty, golden Gryffindor boy. But after seeing him like this, nearly dead by the hand of his own uncle, I did start to actually care for him, did start to worry about him. My previous picture of him had been shattered into tiny, little pieces and I did not know what to think anymore.

And then, there was also the scar in my palm, which wouldn't stop hurting, wouldn't let me rest, until the boy was well again. I wanted this pain to stop, to be gone, because that would mean that Harry had survived once more.

I took the boys hand in mine, wanting to lend him some of my strength, wanting to show him that I did not hate him as much anymore, even if I did know that it wasn't possible to reach him. Harry was in a healing stasis and was not aware of his surroundings. I must have eventually fallen asleep, because suddenly I was woken by a clattering noise in the hallway downstairs, followed by screeches and curses from Mrs. Black's portrait.

The old hag had been silent for the weeks prior, both Lupin and me had avoided as much as possible, to make any noises in her presence. But now she was at her best again, insulting everyone present, their ancestors and even their sexual preferences. That woman must have had a quite dirty and imaginative mind, for her portrait to come up with some of the things she accused, whoever the unlucky person to disturb her was, of doing.

I have been a Death Eater for years, was present at some of the more horrible gatherings and also at some orgies, though I tended to avoid the latter, but even I didn't know that you could do such things to another person, like she described so vividly. The piece about the goat was rather interesting too, even if I did not feel compelled to test the viability of her words, myself.

I was still holding Harry's hand, but now I gently laid it down on the covers and went down to look what the whole ruckus was about.

As I ascended the stairs, I saw a tired-looking Arthur and a resigned-looking Tonks. Next to them stood Harry's trunk and an empty owl cage. Since Tonks was present, she was probably the one to have woken up the portrait by stumbling over something. In my entire life I have never met a woman, who was as clumsy as her. I wonder sometimes how she did become an Auror. I somehow never came around to ask her, but I think the best bet would be, that it was only because of her being a Metamorphmagus and therefore extremely useful for spying.

Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey had come out of the kitchen, also having heard the turmoil and united we did manage to finally shut the still screeching Mrs. Black up, sadly not for good.

After that was done, Albus gestured us all to follow him into the kitchen. If he was angry about my presence he did not show it, he just shot a knowing look into my direction, before he turned in a swirl of purple robes with little moons on them, to lead the way.

As soon as we were once more seated at the kitchen table, the Headmaster asked Arthur and Tonks to report what had happened since the floo conversation.

"Let me tell," Tonks said. "I think Arthur has had enough for tonight."

"Very well," the Headmaster said. "Arthur, my boy. You may return to the Burrow if you wish, I know this night has been difficult on you."

"Thank you, Albus. I am really tired and I want to tell Molly as soon as possible what has happened. She will want to be present when Harry wakes up." Arthur said. After that, he slumped out of the room, fatigue evident in his steps. Poppy also excused herself to go check on Harry's condition, so there was only the Headmaster and I left to listen to Tonks report.

"Now that that's settled, could you please continue Nymphadora?" Albus addressed her.

"It's Tonks, how often do I have to tell you this? Anyway, after Kingsley took that horrid muggle away to take him into one of our secret holding cells, Arthur and I collected Harry's things to bring them here. Sadly we couldn't do anything for his owl, she was already too weak to make it," she said quietly. "We buried her in the garden. I thought it would only upset Harry to see her dead body, so I wanted to spare him that." She took a deep breath and absently wiped a tear from her cheek. "Then we apparated here and I accidentally stumbled over the trunk, which caused my dear relative's portrait to wake up. I think you know the rest."

"Thank you, Nymphadora," the Headmaster said, twirling the end of his beard between his fingers, he was obviously thinking about something.

"Will Shacklebolt be questioning the muggle further?" I asked. "There has to be a reason for what he did." I did not believe that Dursley's attack on Harry was just a random occurrence; he must have had an ulterior motive for wanting his nephew dead. "Have you examined, if he was acting under Imperius?" I added as an afterthought, it would have explained his behaviour.

"Snape, do you think we're stupid? We already have checked him for all kinds of spells, but we could not detect anything. Either someone has found a way to make their magic untraceable, which means we are in deep shit or he did it just by himself, as horrible as it is to even think of it. Kings' is questioning him right know, looking if he can get some answers from him," Tonks replied.

After that we fell silent, all of us lost in our own thoughts. I got up to make a pot of tea, needing to do something with my hands, instead of just sitting there. If we would have been at Hogwarts, I would have started to brew a simple potion to keep my hands occupied and my mind free to wander, but as we weren't, I had to content myself with what was at hand.

Neither of us had wanted to go to bed this night, we all were too anxious to hear what news the Auror would bring, so we sat there and waited for Shacklebolt. Mme. Pomfrey had joined us again, sometime around two or three in the morning, she didn't have any updates on Harry's condition, he still hadn't woken up.

It may have been two hours later; the early lights of dawn had just started to lighten the sky outside the kitchen windows, when Shacklebolt arrived.

He immediately slumped down into a chair, grateful for the tea that Albus offered him. He sipped the warm liquid slowly, drawing out the time until he had to give his report. He did not seem very eager to start speaking, but eventually, he put his cup down onto the table and said, obviously distressed: "I questioned Harry's uncle some more, and after I explained some curses and their uses to him and threatened him to give him a little taste of them, if he wouldn't tell me everything I wanted to know, he suddenly started to sing like a bird. I know now, among other things, why he attempted to kill Harry." He paused and took another sip of his tea.

"Please, continue Kingsley," Albus said. "What was his reason for doing such a thing to Harry?"

Shacklebolt fidgeted uncomfortably and drank the rest of his tea down in one big gulp. "Apparently, Death Eaters tortured and killed his son Dudley sometime last week. They left his battered and broken body in front of the backdoor at Privet Drive #4. Harry's aunt found her son when she wanted to take out the garbage, her mind snapped after seeing him there, covered in blood and his own entrails. They had gutted him like a slaughter kettle." He hesitated for a moment, but then he continued speaking. "The muggle doctor they went to said that she would never recover, she will be insane for the rest of her life. Harry's uncle blames Harry for what has happened to his son and wife. He-who-must-not-be-named's followers did leave a message for Harry with his dead cousin, saying that he might be untouchable, but the people around him aren't. Dursley wanted for Harry to go through the same things, his son had endured. If you wouldn't have come in time, he would have succeeded with his plan."

I swore under my breath, his words did lead me to some disturbing thoughts. I was in Voldemort's inner circle so why had I not been informed about any of this? Did the Dark Lord already suspect me of being a spy? No, surely not, he had no reason to be suspicious about me. My behaviour had always been that of an immaculate Death Eater, my true feelings hidden so deep inside of me that not even Voldemort's Leglimency skills could discover them. I would find out the answers to my many questions, the next time Voldemort did summon me to attend a gathering.

"I believe that there is more?" Albus said quietly, interrupting my musings.

"Yes, sadly there are more things, about which I will have to inform you. The muggle did tell me some things, I would be glad to have never heard. In fear of being hexed, he has told me every little detail of what he has done to Harry." the Auror answered. "I'd rather would not have to speak to you about this, but you'll have to know the truth. Where should I start?"


End file.
